...it's not often, maybe because I suppress it. Maybe because I know it's useless. Maybe because I know there is no way around it. Maybe because just the sound of the phrase pisses me off, no matter who I hear say it...usually, they have no idea the meaning of the words coming out of their mouths. They couldn't even comprehend what they are saying is so very far from the truth of the matter. More than starting a sentence with the phrase, "...can't I even..."(thank you Nora), the phrase that I hear and at times want to drop kick someone is the phrase, "...it's not fair..."
Of course, it's a relative term, this I know. I would say, pain, is they only way one would get a pass from me on the topic. It's like when they have to ask your pain level in the hospital. I would always look at them and say, "...um, yes?" Who puts a number to that? However, the phrase "it's not fair" is I guess in the eye of the beholder. But there have been times in the last 5 or 6 months that I have wanted to just yell out, "REALLY? THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE TO B**CH ABOUT?...how do you get up in the morning?"
Now, this phrase, as previously mentioned, doesn't always strike a nerve, it comes and goes. Usually, I never take it personally onto myself. This phrase to me, speaks of someone else. It speaks of those who never had a choice. It speaks of those who aren't in a position to change anything. It speaks of those who woke up one day and their lives had changed. It speaks of those who aren't always able to tell how they feel, or even old enough to drink to forget...my children.
There will always be mental images you can't get out of your head, those you hope stay there for ever, and those you wish to never bump into again. My worst fear, after our lives had changed, was how I was going to tell them that their Dad had passed away. How was I going to have it make sense? How was I going to NOT screw it up? Little did I know at the time, that was my stain. The stain I would now carry around, usually in the back of my mind, I'm a little cluttered. The notion that for these people I am supposed to protect, there has been something taken away from them. The fact that there are so many MORE things for them that are not "FAIR", and I can't protect them from it. I can't fix it. And worse, when they are struggling, I can't even take it on for them. That my dear friends, that is the true meaning of the phrase, "...it's not fair".
For me, I've grasped, with two white knuckled hands, the concept of what is fair. I know that life will not always be fair. I know that at times life will not always be how you want it. For me, I've learned that in that moment, when you think things couldn't be MORE UNFAIR, you count your blessings...those you currently have, those you have been blessed to be given, and those moments that have yet to happened. I feel like not only have I earned them, I deserve them, because I can see the forest for the trees...and perhaps, because of that, I appreciate things more than I ever did before.
But, like when the Grinch gets his heart back and his face softens, so does mine. Mine softens at the thought of how great my kids are doing. While they didn't have a choice in waking up one day, and having to do a lot of growing up all at once, they know that life is not fair. They know that if they have something they need to talk about, they can. They know that where God closes a door he also opens a window...now, that's not to say they aren't the same whack-a-doodles that think it's funny to co-urinate (not sure if that's a word, but I think you get it). They are the ones that can locate a hammer, without even being able to see it, grab it and run through the house with it (I MUST clean out that drawer). They are the ones that can attest that they will not be eating what's for dinner the next day. They push my buttons, the limits, the noise barrier, not because life's not fair, because they are kids. For that, oddly enough, I find some solace. That's their job until they become legal...then, I guess 'fair' will take on hopefully a different meaning...
Monday, September 30, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
...most superb snack, pirate mother...
She's girly, only in about 15 minute stints. She knows that if she LOUDLY whispers something, it's important, it's serious, and it usually makes no sense. Her imagination is mind boggling. Her vocabulary is WAY too vast. She carries a smelly stuffed dog, that has now become part of our messed up family. She understands sarcasm, and uses it (as I shutter). Her mortal weaknesses are marshmallows, chocolate milk and candy corn...because we all have our weaknesses.
She's way beyond toys. Don't get me wrong, she wants every one advertised on television, but I think that's just her way on not wanting to break with convention. She's most happy with some object meant to be thrown in the trash can, like a paper towel tube. First it's a telescope on her pirate ship. Then it's her trumpet in her Dixieland Jazz Band...hours later, she's under the table with it, telling it about her day, and how glad she is that they met...if I didn't love her, I'd be frightened of her.
She is logical, and at times can't get past that. I caught her scribbling in a kiddie magazine of hers. I said, "Hey, wait! What are you doing? That's not nice...". She looked at me, sort of tilted her head to the side and said, "...um, mommy...you know this is a magazine?...it doesn't HAVE feelings...". Or the other day when our friend told her to be careful not to get her hands to close to her brother's mouths at dinner time, she's liable to loose a finger. She turned to them and said, "...I never loose my fingers, they're attached to my hand..."
There is sadly, less and less that she can be fooled with lately. However, her ability to be able to include Santa Claus to any possible guest list is compelling, but she's become this character. I know these are her ways, they will always be unique to her, they will fade, as soon as she starts school. As much as I complain, that she will be here two more years before she starts school, I full on know I bore her to death. I know as much as she wears me out, she will be wearing out a teacher someday also. She will also loose that shine of hers just a bit, not in a bad way. In the way that kids become exposed to other kids, drop off their annoying little habits and make new ones. No matter when it happens, she'll always have me laughing...hopefully.
I write this, not as some awe inspiring 'Ode to Nora Jane Hunt'. While she is my one day estrogen infused partner in crime, the outnumbered stick together. She has every bit as many hilarious, nerve-racking, unique, imaginative traits as her brothers before her, and hopefully her brother after (that is if he isn't in Juvie by then). I write this, because I am blessed to be able to have a front row seat and backstage pass for watching my kids grow into these little people by staying at home with them. I know that while it's hard to make it work, in the end when your kids do something really brilliant, you can take the credit for it, you are with them all day. Sadly, when they are feeling up mannequins at a department store, yeah, well that's on you too...but, I can rest my head at night, knowing that even in a loud whisper, this 'Pirate Mother' makes the most superb snacks...
She's way beyond toys. Don't get me wrong, she wants every one advertised on television, but I think that's just her way on not wanting to break with convention. She's most happy with some object meant to be thrown in the trash can, like a paper towel tube. First it's a telescope on her pirate ship. Then it's her trumpet in her Dixieland Jazz Band...hours later, she's under the table with it, telling it about her day, and how glad she is that they met...if I didn't love her, I'd be frightened of her.
She is logical, and at times can't get past that. I caught her scribbling in a kiddie magazine of hers. I said, "Hey, wait! What are you doing? That's not nice...". She looked at me, sort of tilted her head to the side and said, "...um, mommy...you know this is a magazine?...it doesn't HAVE feelings...". Or the other day when our friend told her to be careful not to get her hands to close to her brother's mouths at dinner time, she's liable to loose a finger. She turned to them and said, "...I never loose my fingers, they're attached to my hand..."
There is sadly, less and less that she can be fooled with lately. However, her ability to be able to include Santa Claus to any possible guest list is compelling, but she's become this character. I know these are her ways, they will always be unique to her, they will fade, as soon as she starts school. As much as I complain, that she will be here two more years before she starts school, I full on know I bore her to death. I know as much as she wears me out, she will be wearing out a teacher someday also. She will also loose that shine of hers just a bit, not in a bad way. In the way that kids become exposed to other kids, drop off their annoying little habits and make new ones. No matter when it happens, she'll always have me laughing...hopefully.
I write this, not as some awe inspiring 'Ode to Nora Jane Hunt'. While she is my one day estrogen infused partner in crime, the outnumbered stick together. She has every bit as many hilarious, nerve-racking, unique, imaginative traits as her brothers before her, and hopefully her brother after (that is if he isn't in Juvie by then). I write this, because I am blessed to be able to have a front row seat and backstage pass for watching my kids grow into these little people by staying at home with them. I know that while it's hard to make it work, in the end when your kids do something really brilliant, you can take the credit for it, you are with them all day. Sadly, when they are feeling up mannequins at a department store, yeah, well that's on you too...but, I can rest my head at night, knowing that even in a loud whisper, this 'Pirate Mother' makes the most superb snacks...
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
...it's all good, as long as there are no witnesses...
...finally, it's Fall. For me it's the most beautiful time of the year (odd, to see beauty as everything is dying off)...everything is nestled into my favorite colors. The air is crisp. The oven beckons to be turned on. Soup is on the stove. Finally, it's trips to the pumpkin patches that we are now looking forward to. I found one just up the road from where we live, Harvestville Farm. If the place is half as beautiful as it's stunning pictures portray it, it might become a family tradition. So, it didn't surprise me today, when Nora had a suggestion for another afternoon road trip.
"So, I say we just go to the bathroom, get our shoes on, get in the car and hit the road...We can eat at McDonald's when we get there...", said Nora. I was wondering where she had us heading, while I figured Quincy, I thought I'd ask her just the same. Her answer, well that became a game of 23,456 questions, most of which I didn't have the answers for. In her most logical, phonetically "th" challenged voice, she responds, "....well, we are going to hit the road and drive to heaven, of course..."
Sometimes I think she can read minds. No, seriously, it's freaking frightening. In the last couple of days, I've been noticing how people measure time. Now, I've been told by my brilliant friend April, who has studied this very subject, that the entire concept of measuring time...was brought on by a woman. Interesting, but not surprising. The whole idea of a woman knowing her bodily rhythms, became an important measure of time way, way back when. Growing up, I always remember the nuns in school measuring time with The Vatican I & II. The older you get, you measure time by where you are, what you have done. My kid's measurement of time are based around holidays or seasons but also as Nora likes to put it, "...before Daddy went to heaven/ after Daddy went to heaven". I think that is an interesting way of measuring time, leaves little up for question. The one burning question I'd like to ask this four year old, how long ago was that?
For me, it's tough. For me, time is something that I yearn for, wishing there were more hours in the day. I sort of run from at the same time, wishing I could push the clock forward...if for no other reason than to be able to exhale, and know it all worked out. With the exception of Atticus and the orange jumpsuit, I'm not that naïve. For me, the last 11 or so months, have seriously felt like years. So much so, that at times, I get a little pissed at myself, thinking, why the hell haven't I gotten this done or that figured out...I have to remind myself that my old life, isn't even fully visible in my rear view mirror. I have to remind myself that this hasn't been this way forever. I guess, maybe even that is oddly gratifying. There was a time, last Fall, that I seriously (also silently) doubted we'd even make it out alive, how would I make any of this work? While my hours are long, sleep fleeting, and my hearing ability heightened for mayhem...those bags under my eyes, they're brand new. They will become deeper...awesome. No matter how I have become accustomed measuring time, I'm at least grateful that I have been given it...that and the ability to remove myself and my children from a situation, recognizing there might be witnesses...Harvetville Farms, here we come!!
"So, I say we just go to the bathroom, get our shoes on, get in the car and hit the road...We can eat at McDonald's when we get there...", said Nora. I was wondering where she had us heading, while I figured Quincy, I thought I'd ask her just the same. Her answer, well that became a game of 23,456 questions, most of which I didn't have the answers for. In her most logical, phonetically "th" challenged voice, she responds, "....well, we are going to hit the road and drive to heaven, of course..."
Sometimes I think she can read minds. No, seriously, it's freaking frightening. In the last couple of days, I've been noticing how people measure time. Now, I've been told by my brilliant friend April, who has studied this very subject, that the entire concept of measuring time...was brought on by a woman. Interesting, but not surprising. The whole idea of a woman knowing her bodily rhythms, became an important measure of time way, way back when. Growing up, I always remember the nuns in school measuring time with The Vatican I & II. The older you get, you measure time by where you are, what you have done. My kid's measurement of time are based around holidays or seasons but also as Nora likes to put it, "...before Daddy went to heaven/ after Daddy went to heaven". I think that is an interesting way of measuring time, leaves little up for question. The one burning question I'd like to ask this four year old, how long ago was that?
For me, it's tough. For me, time is something that I yearn for, wishing there were more hours in the day. I sort of run from at the same time, wishing I could push the clock forward...if for no other reason than to be able to exhale, and know it all worked out. With the exception of Atticus and the orange jumpsuit, I'm not that naïve. For me, the last 11 or so months, have seriously felt like years. So much so, that at times, I get a little pissed at myself, thinking, why the hell haven't I gotten this done or that figured out...I have to remind myself that my old life, isn't even fully visible in my rear view mirror. I have to remind myself that this hasn't been this way forever. I guess, maybe even that is oddly gratifying. There was a time, last Fall, that I seriously (also silently) doubted we'd even make it out alive, how would I make any of this work? While my hours are long, sleep fleeting, and my hearing ability heightened for mayhem...those bags under my eyes, they're brand new. They will become deeper...awesome. No matter how I have become accustomed measuring time, I'm at least grateful that I have been given it...that and the ability to remove myself and my children from a situation, recognizing there might be witnesses...Harvetville Farms, here we come!!
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
...Christmas gift-cards to the liquor store, please.
...5:30 am start the coffee. I've been told by some that it is a tad strong. It isn't for leisure drinking, it's only function is to serve as a JOLT to wake me up. It probably rots my colon, but it's my healthy shot of ephedrine that is necessary to get my day started. Atticus starts his early morning oratory...talking to his stuffed animals, telling them the day's plans of taking apart the fire place at 7:45. Scaling the cabinets will be at 10:45 to reach the knife block that is seemingly out of reach of children.
By 6:30 all are roused, clothes on, teeth brushed, at least one argument about appropriate clothing, pigtails and "he didn't really brush his teeth..." Then it's downstairs for what sounds like the crowd at an MMA prized fight. Breakfast, review of homework, cleaning breakfast, laundry, sip of coffee (still no leisure there) and then get the Talls out the door for school...I'm a degenerate, I make them walk or ride their bikes. I love living in Canton, MO!
Then it's the business of taking a shower (if lucky), cleaning that should involve a vacuum, if only the two home weren't scared to death of it. Laundry, meals, snacks removing Atticus from some shelf, answering 1,376 questions of Nora. Removing Atticus from some table. A couple of $20-a-cup pretend lemonade stands, some conceptual art, and the bartering of candy usually on Nora's daily agenda. Then, 3:30 when the madness starts again. Snacks, homework, yes you have to shower, dinner making, cranky toddlers, AND no there are no green beans in that. Dinner clean up, THUNDERDOME, baths, books, removing Atticus from a cabinet, diaper changes and...bed...for everyone under 5 feet, if only I were a couple of inches shorter.
Now, I had a brief but glorious time away from my Shangri La this summer. It was awesome, splendid, the thing of dreams...but my old habits were lying just under the surface. I kept thinking I needed to get doing something, weird. I went back to my ways anyway and found myself making veggie snack trays and cleaning up glasses. It's part of my DNA now, heaven help me...
My story isn't something special. Millions of single parents do the same thing. I however wasn't eased into it. I went from having a teammate, to being the "I" in team. While I miss my teammate, anyone who has spent any time here in the last 10.5 months can attest that it is controlled chaos, and it might have been that before also. While I question my practices daily, at the end of the day when we some how achieve "quiet", I heave a sigh of relief and do some more laundry...
But, where my thoughts have rested lately are how this will be done when I work out of my house? My magic-bean-tree-that-grows-money won't last forever...if it ever sprouts. My worries lie on the fact that I will have to get a REAL job very soon. Budgeting can get you so far, but for some reason these kids eat 3 times (or more) a day!! They need things like braces/glasses/Dr. visits. I guess I'm preparing myself that while I can 'handle' what is going on now, it will indeed get harder/more stressful/more hectic. While I'm grateful that it is the job title I currently hold, I know the future holds more jobs, more titles, and more to do in 24 hours than I might think I possible...for anyone who wishes to know, I'm accepting all gifts of liquor for Christmas this year...
By 6:30 all are roused, clothes on, teeth brushed, at least one argument about appropriate clothing, pigtails and "he didn't really brush his teeth..." Then it's downstairs for what sounds like the crowd at an MMA prized fight. Breakfast, review of homework, cleaning breakfast, laundry, sip of coffee (still no leisure there) and then get the Talls out the door for school...I'm a degenerate, I make them walk or ride their bikes. I love living in Canton, MO!
Then it's the business of taking a shower (if lucky), cleaning that should involve a vacuum, if only the two home weren't scared to death of it. Laundry, meals, snacks removing Atticus from some shelf, answering 1,376 questions of Nora. Removing Atticus from some table. A couple of $20-a-cup pretend lemonade stands, some conceptual art, and the bartering of candy usually on Nora's daily agenda. Then, 3:30 when the madness starts again. Snacks, homework, yes you have to shower, dinner making, cranky toddlers, AND no there are no green beans in that. Dinner clean up, THUNDERDOME, baths, books, removing Atticus from a cabinet, diaper changes and...bed...for everyone under 5 feet, if only I were a couple of inches shorter.
Now, I had a brief but glorious time away from my Shangri La this summer. It was awesome, splendid, the thing of dreams...but my old habits were lying just under the surface. I kept thinking I needed to get doing something, weird. I went back to my ways anyway and found myself making veggie snack trays and cleaning up glasses. It's part of my DNA now, heaven help me...
My story isn't something special. Millions of single parents do the same thing. I however wasn't eased into it. I went from having a teammate, to being the "I" in team. While I miss my teammate, anyone who has spent any time here in the last 10.5 months can attest that it is controlled chaos, and it might have been that before also. While I question my practices daily, at the end of the day when we some how achieve "quiet", I heave a sigh of relief and do some more laundry...
But, where my thoughts have rested lately are how this will be done when I work out of my house? My magic-bean-tree-that-grows-money won't last forever...if it ever sprouts. My worries lie on the fact that I will have to get a REAL job very soon. Budgeting can get you so far, but for some reason these kids eat 3 times (or more) a day!! They need things like braces/glasses/Dr. visits. I guess I'm preparing myself that while I can 'handle' what is going on now, it will indeed get harder/more stressful/more hectic. While I'm grateful that it is the job title I currently hold, I know the future holds more jobs, more titles, and more to do in 24 hours than I might think I possible...for anyone who wishes to know, I'm accepting all gifts of liquor for Christmas this year...
Sunday, September 15, 2013
...what about a paper mache ax?
...can you feel that? You are no longer sweating in places that are too gross to mention. Your windows are open and breezes are crisp. You are noticing it getting dark a tad earlier. You are grabbing for extra blankets in the middle of the night...and if you are like me, you are now suddenly interesting in making...soup? Fall is upon us, officially a week away, and I can't wait. We have always had a love affair, Fall and I...I'm grateful for this feeling again. I was worried I might not feel it...
I am so glad I live in the Midwest. I'm not sure I could handle living somewhere that the seasons don't really visibly change. I think it must be some sort of mental thing for me. However, crazy runs rampant in this house, because we all go a little weak in the knees for this season...we have decorations, special recipes, books (I told you, there's a slight obsession here). I've slowly started pulling them out. Last Sunday, when it was 100 degrees out, I had had it! I was looking for anything to get my mind off of the fact that it had been a long hot couple of weeks. So, Nora and I decorated the front porch. Pumpkins, lights, fall wreathes- I'm sure the people across the street already know I'm certifiable, they are waiting for me to wear my underwear on top of my clothes to call the authorities...at least I hope.
This change in the air, change in the temperature, change in the psyche...it's sort of something this house thrives on. When one season ends, you're ready to start fresh, change some things around and have new fun to look forward to. I have had a lot of wonderful experiences in the Fall, it has also given me a fair share of heartbreak. I look at the change in seasons as nature's Prozac. I feel like this periodic change also makes me realize how very blessed I am. I am blessed to be able to find the beauty in the changes going on around me. I am blessed to see my children become thrilled at the notion of pumpkin muffins, hot chocolate, visiting pumpkin patches and snuggling under blankets. While my children know how to push buttons, they are these unbelievable little people who have been through so much, but are able to laugh, love, and have fun. I was thinking to myself tonight, I have it pretty easy. When it's bed time, that's it. No hour long arguments. No kicking and screaming. No stalling....and it's early. It's like they know, "...listen up crew, Mommy is about to loose her s***, so it's gettin' time..."...and once again, I am blessed.
We still have a tub of Fall-Fun to bring up from the basement. I've given a September 30th mandate on Halloween costume decisions. If any one changes their mind after that, they are sentenced to a ghost costume. I've already been asked if we could make a paper mache ax...what? It would also be nice if someone was alerted that I not only do not know how to sew, I do not work or have ever worked for a film prop department...just a little FYI. Fall...it's madness, it's beautiful, it's curative, it's my family, and I love it!
I am so glad I live in the Midwest. I'm not sure I could handle living somewhere that the seasons don't really visibly change. I think it must be some sort of mental thing for me. However, crazy runs rampant in this house, because we all go a little weak in the knees for this season...we have decorations, special recipes, books (I told you, there's a slight obsession here). I've slowly started pulling them out. Last Sunday, when it was 100 degrees out, I had had it! I was looking for anything to get my mind off of the fact that it had been a long hot couple of weeks. So, Nora and I decorated the front porch. Pumpkins, lights, fall wreathes- I'm sure the people across the street already know I'm certifiable, they are waiting for me to wear my underwear on top of my clothes to call the authorities...at least I hope.
This change in the air, change in the temperature, change in the psyche...it's sort of something this house thrives on. When one season ends, you're ready to start fresh, change some things around and have new fun to look forward to. I have had a lot of wonderful experiences in the Fall, it has also given me a fair share of heartbreak. I look at the change in seasons as nature's Prozac. I feel like this periodic change also makes me realize how very blessed I am. I am blessed to be able to find the beauty in the changes going on around me. I am blessed to see my children become thrilled at the notion of pumpkin muffins, hot chocolate, visiting pumpkin patches and snuggling under blankets. While my children know how to push buttons, they are these unbelievable little people who have been through so much, but are able to laugh, love, and have fun. I was thinking to myself tonight, I have it pretty easy. When it's bed time, that's it. No hour long arguments. No kicking and screaming. No stalling....and it's early. It's like they know, "...listen up crew, Mommy is about to loose her s***, so it's gettin' time..."...and once again, I am blessed.
We still have a tub of Fall-Fun to bring up from the basement. I've given a September 30th mandate on Halloween costume decisions. If any one changes their mind after that, they are sentenced to a ghost costume. I've already been asked if we could make a paper mache ax...what? It would also be nice if someone was alerted that I not only do not know how to sew, I do not work or have ever worked for a film prop department...just a little FYI. Fall...it's madness, it's beautiful, it's curative, it's my family, and I love it!
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
...the 8:15 tour is completely different from the 10:15...
I take full responsibility. There's no one else to take the fall. I talk... a lot. Daily narration. I do it, and I don't even know I'm doing it. I started doing it when the kids were younger, I'm sure it was to just talk to someone. Now that notion is almost laughable. So, it shouldn't surprise me I am rearing a house full of jabber boxes. It seems to be amplified in the female version of my offspring. That being said, Nora and I are still out numbered, so things are balanced out between far flung drama and fart jokes. However, what has become more surprising is the lack of filter...
Nora, could get a job tomorrow narrating for the blind...They would have to become accustomed to her lack of wanting to say the letters 'th'. It's all den (then), dat (that) du (the). However, what she lacks in phonics, she makes up for in her descriptive ability to properly intertwine the words magical and enchanting into a sentence about her socks. I pray she never loses the ability to talk, it might kill her. She looks at everything not only at a height of 3 foot something, but also like an old soul. I don't have to wonder how she's feeling. She'll not only prepare a brief recited essay about it, but also compose a song and dance to go along with it. The phrase that I wish she would some how erase from her vernacular is, "...at least can I (have some candy, get some ice, glue something to the wall)..." Four years old, and so burdened...
Atticus, says some words that are understood. At home with the female quotient of jabbers, it's not surprising he's picking up on our habits. Lately, however, it's as if he's giving tours to an imaginary group, wandering around the house pointing at this and that, babbling all the way. Then for some reason, it's as if he's counting off something, and at the point of 3, it's exciting!- or at least it is in his head. He walked by Nora and I today, clearly giving his 8:15 tour, and Nora looked at me and said (and I am to blame for this), "...he's lost his little MIND!"
Now, when it comes to the 'Talls' and their filter, it gets fascinating to me. Abe has always been chatting, mainly about things he has no notion of, Oscar about things he's interested in. Don't get me wrong, we have our fair share of burp and fart challenges, Taylor Swift songs turned into songs about pooping- vast amounts of wasted brain function. However, they are rather open, and I mean will tell anyone that asks them, about their love lives. Wait, love lives? At times I wonder when they speak to each other if they forget that I am there. Abe, due to his retainers in his mouth, I am on about a 10 second delay as to what he says, still. He's fast. Oscar, out of no where will start talking, as if he's reciting a line from an after school special. The other day, I heard them talking about the 'honeys' in their school. I almost choked on what I was drinking when I heard Oscar say, "...you know so-in-so? Yeah, I could really fall for her...". Fall? What the devil does that mean in a 9 year old brain?...never mind, I'm not sure I want to know just yet. I'm flush with knowledge now of their daily goings-on, and I stop myself at times and enjoy it. I know I might have a couple of years before I am told nothing, and that will be the time I start to worry.
These things, they don't seem like a lot. They are however, a break in the monotony of my daily life...laundry, working a budget, making meals, cleaning, finding bats in toilets, changing diapers and more laundry. The fact that I can catch a glimpse of what these little people might end up being when they are my age, mind boggling. Oscar and I were talking last night, and he said something to me, that I will remind myself of, possibly for the next calendar year. We were talking about how sometimes life isn't fair, and it's hard to understand why things happen as they do. He said to me, "...I feel like our lives ended up the way they did, because someone knew we would be okay having just you, like you're strong enough to do all this for us..." At that moment, I was never so grateful for my overly verbal, non-filtered, phonetically challenged, babbling blessings...
Nora, could get a job tomorrow narrating for the blind...They would have to become accustomed to her lack of wanting to say the letters 'th'. It's all den (then), dat (that) du (the). However, what she lacks in phonics, she makes up for in her descriptive ability to properly intertwine the words magical and enchanting into a sentence about her socks. I pray she never loses the ability to talk, it might kill her. She looks at everything not only at a height of 3 foot something, but also like an old soul. I don't have to wonder how she's feeling. She'll not only prepare a brief recited essay about it, but also compose a song and dance to go along with it. The phrase that I wish she would some how erase from her vernacular is, "...at least can I (have some candy, get some ice, glue something to the wall)..." Four years old, and so burdened...
Atticus, says some words that are understood. At home with the female quotient of jabbers, it's not surprising he's picking up on our habits. Lately, however, it's as if he's giving tours to an imaginary group, wandering around the house pointing at this and that, babbling all the way. Then for some reason, it's as if he's counting off something, and at the point of 3, it's exciting!- or at least it is in his head. He walked by Nora and I today, clearly giving his 8:15 tour, and Nora looked at me and said (and I am to blame for this), "...he's lost his little MIND!"
Now, when it comes to the 'Talls' and their filter, it gets fascinating to me. Abe has always been chatting, mainly about things he has no notion of, Oscar about things he's interested in. Don't get me wrong, we have our fair share of burp and fart challenges, Taylor Swift songs turned into songs about pooping- vast amounts of wasted brain function. However, they are rather open, and I mean will tell anyone that asks them, about their love lives. Wait, love lives? At times I wonder when they speak to each other if they forget that I am there. Abe, due to his retainers in his mouth, I am on about a 10 second delay as to what he says, still. He's fast. Oscar, out of no where will start talking, as if he's reciting a line from an after school special. The other day, I heard them talking about the 'honeys' in their school. I almost choked on what I was drinking when I heard Oscar say, "...you know so-in-so? Yeah, I could really fall for her...". Fall? What the devil does that mean in a 9 year old brain?...never mind, I'm not sure I want to know just yet. I'm flush with knowledge now of their daily goings-on, and I stop myself at times and enjoy it. I know I might have a couple of years before I am told nothing, and that will be the time I start to worry.
These things, they don't seem like a lot. They are however, a break in the monotony of my daily life...laundry, working a budget, making meals, cleaning, finding bats in toilets, changing diapers and more laundry. The fact that I can catch a glimpse of what these little people might end up being when they are my age, mind boggling. Oscar and I were talking last night, and he said something to me, that I will remind myself of, possibly for the next calendar year. We were talking about how sometimes life isn't fair, and it's hard to understand why things happen as they do. He said to me, "...I feel like our lives ended up the way they did, because someone knew we would be okay having just you, like you're strong enough to do all this for us..." At that moment, I was never so grateful for my overly verbal, non-filtered, phonetically challenged, babbling blessings...
Saturday, September 7, 2013
...when it's a bat-in-the-toilet-kind-of-day...
Here I am. I'd like to say I know more about life than I did 10 months ago, but frankly I don't. I've learned to appreciate how very precious, fleeting, and slightly unforgiving time can be. I've learned that there are things in this world you have to face, regardless if you want to. I've learned there are times when you have to put yourself so far back on the priority list that it reads in fine print. I've learned I would be nothing without my kids, and grateful for every hair on their heads. I've learned that you might think you have the world by the berries, and then you have a bat-in-the-toilet-kind-of-day...
I'd like to say that this is a made up scenario, some crazy urban legend sort of saying...but this is me we are talking about. My wanderlust for vermin is legendary, however, finding a bat in the toilet (thankfully dead) really throws off even the most perfect of days. Even as I was trying to calm myself down, I kept trying to remind myself that some sort of divine intervention occurred on 815 Washington during the last week. Can you even imagine me trying to trap a bat in THUNDER DOME? Hoping, praying, chanting a mantra, that it will be our last such visitor...but I'm leaving the toilet seat up, just in case...
"Make good choices!!", what Nora and I lovingly say to the boys when they are headed off for school, of course to their eye rolls. But the other day it got me thinking...that phrase packs a punch! I sat and contemplated my daily life, those three words mean a lot, but when I apply them to my own life, can add a little pressure. I'm not going to lie, I live in a bubble. I purposely try not to think of things too far into the future, I'm like a little kid at times. Maybe it's because I know I have no control. Maybe it's because I know it won't do any good. Maybe it's because it's just too scary. The day to day of house hold, four kids, living I can handle. The money matters? Well, let's just say, my Monopoly board game skills REAK...making a mistake concerning finances. Beyond any other fear I may jockey in my life, this is the one that is flashing neon, and is painted in sparkly paint. As time marches on, this is what I'm most scared of...here is where I'm worried I will make a bad choice...So, I step back into my bubble, make sure all lose ends are tied, file it in the further depths of my mind and tell myself, "...you'll figure it out".
We had 24 hours of family fun starting last night with pizza, a movie, junk food, Christmas pajamas, plugging in our ever present Christmas tree and finally bed. Saturday morning chores were still greeted with grunts, arguing, and unnecessary debating about job duty. GOOD LORD, JUST VACCUM UP THE MESS YOU MADE LAST NIGHT, I would never ask them to do something they weren't capable of...end rant. We had the ice cream we had been looking forward to. I swear, it must taste better outside of our house. Nora, however, was disappointed that there were strawberries in her strawberry ice cream. Yup, she's unique. We ended the day having a cook out and a lot of laughs with some new friends.
As the months pass by us, we aren't needing the big productions that we had in the beginning. I hope it's because we have found our strength from each other, and try to celebrate that in some small way everyday. I may play it off like they are a handful, but without my children...I would be nothing. I wouldn't have funny stories. I wouldn't have the support group that I have in them. I wouldn't be able to see life as I see it. They are a big part of what has gotten me through the last 10 months, and I'm so lucky to call myself their Mom...
I'd like to say that this is a made up scenario, some crazy urban legend sort of saying...but this is me we are talking about. My wanderlust for vermin is legendary, however, finding a bat in the toilet (thankfully dead) really throws off even the most perfect of days. Even as I was trying to calm myself down, I kept trying to remind myself that some sort of divine intervention occurred on 815 Washington during the last week. Can you even imagine me trying to trap a bat in THUNDER DOME? Hoping, praying, chanting a mantra, that it will be our last such visitor...but I'm leaving the toilet seat up, just in case...
"Make good choices!!", what Nora and I lovingly say to the boys when they are headed off for school, of course to their eye rolls. But the other day it got me thinking...that phrase packs a punch! I sat and contemplated my daily life, those three words mean a lot, but when I apply them to my own life, can add a little pressure. I'm not going to lie, I live in a bubble. I purposely try not to think of things too far into the future, I'm like a little kid at times. Maybe it's because I know I have no control. Maybe it's because I know it won't do any good. Maybe it's because it's just too scary. The day to day of house hold, four kids, living I can handle. The money matters? Well, let's just say, my Monopoly board game skills REAK...making a mistake concerning finances. Beyond any other fear I may jockey in my life, this is the one that is flashing neon, and is painted in sparkly paint. As time marches on, this is what I'm most scared of...here is where I'm worried I will make a bad choice...So, I step back into my bubble, make sure all lose ends are tied, file it in the further depths of my mind and tell myself, "...you'll figure it out".
We had 24 hours of family fun starting last night with pizza, a movie, junk food, Christmas pajamas, plugging in our ever present Christmas tree and finally bed. Saturday morning chores were still greeted with grunts, arguing, and unnecessary debating about job duty. GOOD LORD, JUST VACCUM UP THE MESS YOU MADE LAST NIGHT, I would never ask them to do something they weren't capable of...end rant. We had the ice cream we had been looking forward to. I swear, it must taste better outside of our house. Nora, however, was disappointed that there were strawberries in her strawberry ice cream. Yup, she's unique. We ended the day having a cook out and a lot of laughs with some new friends.
As the months pass by us, we aren't needing the big productions that we had in the beginning. I hope it's because we have found our strength from each other, and try to celebrate that in some small way everyday. I may play it off like they are a handful, but without my children...I would be nothing. I wouldn't have funny stories. I wouldn't have the support group that I have in them. I wouldn't be able to see life as I see it. They are a big part of what has gotten me through the last 10 months, and I'm so lucky to call myself their Mom...
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
...same old...new old...where's Atticus?
I have people snowed...I have no idea what I am doing. Honestly, I feel like I should some how start a pyramid scheme, offering what little I have for a chance to make $100,000 from home, or some such nonsense. I play a good game, but I mostly get played. I think to myself at times...really? It could be worse, I could be getting a head lice notice. I have to look at it as a joke at times. Even though it's not, this whole thing is freaking hilarious...or at least that's what I remind myself when I'm just about to loose my s**t...
Every parent questions what they are doing. Every parent wonders if the decisions they make will scar their children, require them to have therapy, or just something to chortle over at cocktail time when they are parents someday. Life and parenting isn't nice enough to give you a hand book or syllabus to guide you through. At times you are able to think back from one kid to another what you might have done to remedy a situation. While that does work for me, not every kid is the same, and I have to remind myself (constantly) that I've never done this before. I have never had a seven year old being a single parent before. I've never had an 18 month old, who has now learned to scale the lower kitchen cabinets in just under 7.9 seconds, by myself before...I had back up. I had a teammate. I had someone who knew when I was about to freak-out, and would step in so as to calm the voices in my head...but, the teammates have changed.
I am strict. I know this. I run a tight ship. Not because I enjoy feeling lousy with power, I do it out of necessity, for sanity, and because it works for me. I am noticing now, however, that the rules are sort of bending here and there. Let's face it, there is a time, a certain time, of day when things are HECTIC. Some people deal with the morning rush. Some have bedtime dramas. For me, it's those wondrous, splendid hours between 3:30 and 6...
Doing homework, making dinner, dreaming (or maybe not) of a cocktail, keeping the savages-mainly Atticus- at bay. Long enough to finish the task of feeding offspring, cleaning up, answering 26 questions that I have no answers for (ah hem, Nora), queries of what's for breakfast, is there desert, and why does one HAVE to shower? I have now discovered, that I'd rather clean the table myself, if I know that someone is entertaining Atticus before he's discovered down the street in the neighbors trash can. I don't mind if I take the trash out, if I know that for about 2.8 minutes, I get to leave my house unattended. The funny thing is, these job swaps aren't going unnoticed...if I get an argument about being Atti's warden, I remind them they could be cleaning the upstairs toilet? Silence and a nod of "...duly noted."
While my teammates have changed, clearly the phrase "choose your battles" has never rang more true to me than it has in nearly the last 10 months. There's no 'tag-team' situation here. There is no one but me to quell the madness that has been referred to many times as THUNDER DOME. About once a month, I stress over it. I agonize over what I need to repair. How I need to soften. Or how to lay the hammer down, that doesn't leave a scar, but states that I'm the one in charge with respect given and received. There are times when I feel like, what the hell am I doing? ...but then there are moments...
The moments of when I am talking to Oscar, having an quasi-adult conversation, laughing and joking and there is no mention of Legos. Moments when I see Abe be nurturing to Atticus (and Nora, even though she drives him nuts), in a way that makes me feel like we are in this together. Moments when watching Nora's mind bloom right in front of me, as she writes her letters- always clearly stating first, "...an E? Of course I know how to write that!". Moments as I watch/hear Atticus learning to say more and more words, and I have to chuckle when I hand him what he wants and he mumbles a crude 'thank you'.
We'll be headed out for 'ice-cream-for-lunch' on Saturday. The monthly reminders of survival-of-the-fittest are now best served cold and creamy. It's a place were we can be messy, laugh, and make new memories, new moments. At the end of the day, for me, it's the moments when my kids appreciate me for what I am doing for them, all the while understanding that I am not perfect. At times they catch me off guard by their actions in this way...as if some how they know that I need a sorry, thank you, or I love you, at just the right time. It seems that the best/biggest payoff for what I am now doing, is indeed paid in the simplest of gestures...
Every parent questions what they are doing. Every parent wonders if the decisions they make will scar their children, require them to have therapy, or just something to chortle over at cocktail time when they are parents someday. Life and parenting isn't nice enough to give you a hand book or syllabus to guide you through. At times you are able to think back from one kid to another what you might have done to remedy a situation. While that does work for me, not every kid is the same, and I have to remind myself (constantly) that I've never done this before. I have never had a seven year old being a single parent before. I've never had an 18 month old, who has now learned to scale the lower kitchen cabinets in just under 7.9 seconds, by myself before...I had back up. I had a teammate. I had someone who knew when I was about to freak-out, and would step in so as to calm the voices in my head...but, the teammates have changed.
I am strict. I know this. I run a tight ship. Not because I enjoy feeling lousy with power, I do it out of necessity, for sanity, and because it works for me. I am noticing now, however, that the rules are sort of bending here and there. Let's face it, there is a time, a certain time, of day when things are HECTIC. Some people deal with the morning rush. Some have bedtime dramas. For me, it's those wondrous, splendid hours between 3:30 and 6...
Doing homework, making dinner, dreaming (or maybe not) of a cocktail, keeping the savages-mainly Atticus- at bay. Long enough to finish the task of feeding offspring, cleaning up, answering 26 questions that I have no answers for (ah hem, Nora), queries of what's for breakfast, is there desert, and why does one HAVE to shower? I have now discovered, that I'd rather clean the table myself, if I know that someone is entertaining Atticus before he's discovered down the street in the neighbors trash can. I don't mind if I take the trash out, if I know that for about 2.8 minutes, I get to leave my house unattended. The funny thing is, these job swaps aren't going unnoticed...if I get an argument about being Atti's warden, I remind them they could be cleaning the upstairs toilet? Silence and a nod of "...duly noted."
While my teammates have changed, clearly the phrase "choose your battles" has never rang more true to me than it has in nearly the last 10 months. There's no 'tag-team' situation here. There is no one but me to quell the madness that has been referred to many times as THUNDER DOME. About once a month, I stress over it. I agonize over what I need to repair. How I need to soften. Or how to lay the hammer down, that doesn't leave a scar, but states that I'm the one in charge with respect given and received. There are times when I feel like, what the hell am I doing? ...but then there are moments...
The moments of when I am talking to Oscar, having an quasi-adult conversation, laughing and joking and there is no mention of Legos. Moments when I see Abe be nurturing to Atticus (and Nora, even though she drives him nuts), in a way that makes me feel like we are in this together. Moments when watching Nora's mind bloom right in front of me, as she writes her letters- always clearly stating first, "...an E? Of course I know how to write that!". Moments as I watch/hear Atticus learning to say more and more words, and I have to chuckle when I hand him what he wants and he mumbles a crude 'thank you'.
We'll be headed out for 'ice-cream-for-lunch' on Saturday. The monthly reminders of survival-of-the-fittest are now best served cold and creamy. It's a place were we can be messy, laugh, and make new memories, new moments. At the end of the day, for me, it's the moments when my kids appreciate me for what I am doing for them, all the while understanding that I am not perfect. At times they catch me off guard by their actions in this way...as if some how they know that I need a sorry, thank you, or I love you, at just the right time. It seems that the best/biggest payoff for what I am now doing, is indeed paid in the simplest of gestures...
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